Today is too beautiful to spend indoors, so I took a break and spent
some time doing a bit of yard work and enjoying our forsythias,
daffodils and hyacinths that have been slow in blooming, due to the
March and early April cold spell.

Iíve finished a poem, Forsythias, that I started yesterday.
Frank prefers the more serious stuff, and loved the one I wrote for
yesterdayís Blog! Maybe tomorrow Iíll use another serious poem Ė one I
finished this morning.

Well, here it is: (Note: I apologize if Iím wrong in assuming that
forsythias havenít been honored previously with poetry!)

Forsythias
By Mary T. Hoffman

Thereís a poem about daffodils,
and poems about seas,
words praising sunsets
and, of course, the trees.

But what about forsythias?
Donít they deserve some praise?
Whatís spring without this yellow flower
for us on which to gaze?

Forsythia, forsythia,
you harbinger of spring,
like daffodils, you touch my heart,
you cause my soul to sing.

"Joyful Curmudgeon"
An oxymoron?
No! I see all the beauty of God's creation and I'm joyful. At the
same time, I see all the suffering and corruption going on in the
world, and feel called to help expose and end it so that we may have true
peace and compassion.